


Lay Me Bare

by shinyoten



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, Anal Sex, Flashbacks, Frottage, Hannibal really cares if Will eats his fancy breakfast, Hannigram - Freeform, Implied Cannibalism, Ketchup the dog, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Psychological Trauma, Questioning masculinity, Rape Aftermath, Rape Culture, Reconciliation, Romance, Sexual Content, Sulky cannibals, Vignette, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-14 07:26:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5734765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinyoten/pseuds/shinyoten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will returns to Hannibal days after they have had an argument, except he does not return the same as before. Hannibal is determined to rebuild his teacup that was shattered by a violent rape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Walking on Four Feet

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at a fic that deals with handling the aftermath of rape. I don't want to focus so much on the act itself as how the victim and his partner handle it, especially between two men. I want this to not be a fic about sex and violence, so much as about healing and reconciliation. Not sure how many chapters I'll have yet, but there will be eventual romance. Comments welcome.

He wants the water scalding, needs it to burn. He wants steam to fill the room so he cannot see his body nor his face. The drain swirls with pink and he exhales deeply at the pain, at the cleansing.  
"Will?"  
He can barely hear the voice. He chooses to ignore it. His knuckles are torn, the flesh rubbed off, exposing raw meat underneath. He presses his head against the shower wall, his legs unsteady, his heart pounding.  
"Will, where were you? Unlock the door."  
He closes his eyes, wet hair clinging in his face, his limbs shaking. He means to reply, to say "Go away," but the only sound to escape his mouth is a sob muffled by the rushing noise of water coming from the shower head.

  
Hannibal is waiting for him when he exits the bathroom. He casts one look at Will, knows something has occurred, and can smell the blood on him, despite the shower. He takes one of Will’s mangled hands in his own, gently caressing it. "I am relieved that you came home. Let me tend to you."  
"I don’t need tending. Just let me be tonight," Will replies, sounding weary, sounding aged.  
Hannibal’s eyes observe him keenly, before he nods. "Very well. Call me if you need anything. You don’t have to talk about it now, but if there is any danger to us, it’d be best you speak of it Will. Good night."  
He withdraws, causing Will to sigh deeply and collapse on the bed. His whole body aches and he lies there, his hair dripping, and his limbs radiating with agony, before he dozes off.   
_Metal, scraping into his wrists. The taste of skin, salt, and blood. Filled and ripped open. Darkness in a dusty room._  
 _"That’s a good boy."_  
 _Halitosis. Callused fingers. Yellow nails. Scraping teeth._  
When his eyes open, the clock says four a.m. Will sits up groggily, padding towards the bathroom, blindly seeking a first-aid kit. His hands shake when he finds it and opens it. He pours more disinfectant on his hands than necessary and hisses at the sting that follows. He then tries to wrap a bandage around one of his hands, but drops it accidentally, causing it to roll across the floor. Will curses, instead seeking pills and swallowing enough to knock out three men.

~*~

He sleeps until the afternoon. Hannibal does not bother to wake him for breakfast, but eventually comes to check up on him. Will has not locked the door, so Hannibal enters after his knock is not answered. He goes over to Will’s bedside and sits beside him, feeling his pulse and his forehead. The younger man stirs, groaning at the contact.  
"Lemme sleep."  
"I would, but it is two o’clock in the afternoon. I’d begun to get worried. How are your wounds? You did tend to them I pray, but then again we both know how neglectful you can be."  
Will disregards Hannibal and stays silent for a long moment. Hannibal notices the bruise on his forehead and inspects his face. Will cringes away and rolls over to his side.  
"I’ll be fine. Just a bar fight. I got too drunk alright?"  
"Then let me make you something to ease your stomach," Hannibal offers attentively. He tries to stroke Will’s hair, as if to soothe him, but instead the man brushes his hand away in annoyance.  
"No. I don’t feel like it. I am sorry. I need to be alone."  
Hannibal hesitates, hoping Will will change his mind, and pauses at the door for a moment. "You were gone for three days Will. I thought you’d changed your mind and left. Whatever happened, I wish you’d speak of it. We both know that this wasn’t a bar fight. You killed with your hands again didn’t you?"  
Will is curled up on his side, brushing away images, sensations. His lower back aches, his head is pounding, and he can still taste blood. He tells himself he should not feel dirty and frightened, but it doesn’t change the fact that he does. He shudders, his voice shaky, and he hates himself for it.  
"Go away."  
Hannibal senses Will’s fear, but he complies, exiting the room.

~*~

Will finally eats the next day, but he does not make much conversation. He tells Hannibal he thinks he will go fishing.  
"How do I know you won’t run away again?"  
"I wasn’t running away, and I’m just going to the stream," Will retorts with uncharacteristic hostility.  
"Then what were you doing for three days? You were doing so well, becoming yourself. Beautiful, victorious. Now, you are fading. Have I done something to displease you? You cannot just up and leave Will. It endangers us both and we are in this together." Hannibal draws closer to Will, reaching towards him.  
Will looks back at him, eyes dark and alert. 'If you were so worried, why didn’t you come and try to find me then? Where were _you_?" He sounds furious, defensive even, and this annoys him. He cannot keep his eyes on Hannibal and he grabs his materials and storms outside.  
"Will, come back, what is it that I said? What do you mean?" Hannibal demands, at a loss.  
Will does not answer and races towards the water, fishing gear tight in his fist, with his eyes intent on the stream.   
  
~*~

_The line bobs in the water._  
 _Cold water striking his face._  
 _"Wake up. I’m not done with you yet."_  
 _A hand fisted in his hair, shoving his face into the ground, muffling his cries._  
 _"Tell me where he is you little bitch."_  
He thinks of the water. He wades into the quiet of the stream.   
_The water becomes blood, then his fists are punching into flesh, over and over, the sound of cracking as a head smacks against the pavement. The screams are drowning in his ears._  
"Will."  
He opens his eyes and Hannibal is next to him with his hands on his shoulders. They are standing knee-deep in the river. Will blinks rapidly, looking around like a startled doe before pushing Hannibal away and stumbling. He falls forward, hitting the water, and gasps. He scrambles to his feet, but feels himself pulled upwards as Hannibal lifts him and supports him.  
"Will, follow my voice."  
Will walks slowly forward, leaning against the older man. When they reach the shore, the only sound is that of his heavy breathing. He buries his head into Hannibal’s shoulder and closes his eyes, gripping the man’s sweater fiercely in his hands.  
"I thought you’d come."  
"Sh."  
"I thought…I was just so mad, then I left…and I drank too much. I didn’t know him, I should have been more careful. But he kept me there."  
"Who Will?"  
"He kept asking about you. He was onto our trail. But I couldn’t tell him. I wouldn’t. So he… "  
"Will, what happened?"  
Will tries not to break, he tries not to feel cold, empty and afraid, but he cannot. He tries to not want Hannibal there, shielding him, blocking the images. He tries to tell himself he is a man, that he should just forget it all, that it is all ridiculous. But he cannot. His shoulders heave and within moments he is sobbing into Hannibal’s sweater.  
"Sh, Will. It is alright. Let us go inside now."  
He rubs Will’s back and strokes his hair, embracing him with his other arm. Will eventually calms and whispers, "I am sorry."  
Hannibal is suddenly angry, not at Will, but for whatever has done this to him, and at himself. He guides Will back inside, sits him by the fireplace and wraps him in a dry blanket. "Rest there. I’ll be back in a moment."  
Will grabs his arm, stilling him. "No, stay. Please."  
Hannibal obliges, unable to resist Will saying "please" to him. He sits beside him on the floor and waits patiently.  
"Sorry, I don’t know what got into me, but thank you," Will mutters, clutching the blanket tightly around him.  
"Will, I am worried about you. Someone hurt you. You killed him did you not?" Will nods swiftly. "But what also happened? Where did all of this happen? Tell me the story."  
"I can’t."  
"Then let me tend to your wounds, examine you, care for you."  
"Can we just stay as we are? Just for a while?"  
Hannibal sighs, relenting. "Of course, but you must promise me that you will let me tend to you properly."  
Will considers for a moment before nodding his head again, and looks away. They sit together in silence, saying nothing, until the fire dries their clothes.

~*~

"Will, you must undress," Hannibal demands with clinical urgency. "You should have let me care for you the night you returned."  
Will hesitates, feeling frozen. He looks panicked at the request and Hannibal’s eyebrows furrow in impatient indulgence. "Alright then, your hands first. You didn’t do much of a job bandaging them. Sit here."  
Will complies and Hannibal hands him some white pills with a glass of water. The younger man stares at them suspiciously until the cannibal says, "For the pain," and then he downs them. Will extends his hands, allowing Hannibal to unwrap the hasty dressings and inspect the injuries. The knuckles are torn up and the wrists bruised and lacerated. Injuries caused by punching on the hands, yet there are also signs of force, as if he was tied or restrained.   
Hannibal makes no mention of his observations and merely cleans and redresses the wounds, then moves onto Will’s head injury. He then demands that Will remove his clothing again. Will freezes up again though, frustrating him.  
"Why are you being shy? It’s just so I can tend to your injuries. We’ve seen each other before."  
It was true, that living together after the tumble off the cliff had put them in situations where no modesty could be considered, due to tending to injuries and aiding each other with showering. Still, Will stands motionless, so Hannibal tugs his shirt over his head for him. He notices immediately the bruises on his lower back and hips and feels fury surge deep within him, but keeps his anger at bay. He tends to a few minor cuts and then demands, "The pants next."  
Will closes his eyes, exhaling, before complying. More bruises dance across his pale thighs. Hannibal eyes them for a long moment before motioning to his boxers. Will shakes his head and steps away.  
"It isn’t necessary for you to inspect my dick Hannibal."  
"Will, don’t joke. I need to see the extent of your injuries."  
"Haven’t you seen enough?" Will breathes, his voice catching in his throat.   
Hannibal presses a hand to Will’s cheek, his voice gentle. "Will, you can trust me. Let me help you."  
Will leans into Hannibal’s hand. He looks exhausted and blinks slowly. "Ok then."  
"Lie down flat on your stomach," Hannibal instructs.   
Will takes a moment before lying down shakily. He looks away as Hannibal slips his boxers down past his ankles. "Spread your legs some. There."  
Hannibal is tender in his touch as he inspects Will, noticing the torn tissue and bruising. Will makes a choking sound from pain, muffled against the sheets as Hannibal inspects him in uncomfortable areas.  
"Sh, Will. I’ll be quick."  
He gently applies a cream to some areas before helping Will dress again. Hannibal pulls the covers over Will as if tucking in a child. "Let yourself sleep. I’ll be here if you need anything."  
He goes to leave, but Will stops him with a barely audible, "Thanks."  
"Don’t thank me Will. I’m always here for you."  
_I am sorry that I wasn’t_ , he wants to say.   
He hopes Will believes him, but he receives no response as the younger man sinks underneath the blankets, shielding his face from view.

~*~

Hannibal prepares a hearty breakfast, determined to feed Will properly. Instead of waking Will and leading him to the kitchen, he brings a tray of food to his room instead. It is laden with an assortment of breads, eggs, fruits, yogurt, fancy Hannibal pastries he swears are just normal French venoisserie, and coffee and juice.   
Will stares at the tray for a long moment and rubs his eyes. "I’m not an elephant Hannibal. I could live off just toast." He then realizes he has made an error by the look on Hannibal’s face, so he reaches for a piece of French bread and spreads some jam on it. The cannibal watches him attentively, gradually relaxing.  
"Bon apetit. How are you feeling this morning Will?"  
"Fine I guess. Thanks, for all of this."  
Hannibal makes a dismissive gesture and they sit in silence for a while as Will eats. When the latter has finished, Hannibal sits the tray aside and plops down next to him on the bed. He grabs one of Will’s hands in his own before the younger man can protest, and says solemnly, "I am sorry Will. I am sorry I wasn’t there for you. Just know that I am here for you now, and I will never let anyone hurt you ever again. I promise you. When you are ready to talk, let me know. If not that is fine too, but please understand that you don’t have to handle this alone."  
Will is startled by the speech and is about to say something, but Hannibal swiftly removes himself, taking the tray with him, and exits the room.


	2. Tell me of Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will has flashbacks. Hannibal helps him remember time.

He cannot remember how many shots he has had. The world sways, but he does not care. A man sits down next to him, puts an arm on his shoulders. "Easy now. Next one’s on me."

_"I won’t play these games anymore Hannibal, I’m not your damn toy to wind up and set loose."_

_"You choose to see it as a game. All your actions are you own. You are merely having difficulty facing the monster in your own reflection."_

When they eventually exit, Will has no strength in his legs. The man supports him, laughing with the bartender and saying something about getting him a ride home, except they don’t get in a cab. It’s a black van and his vision is a pendulum, swinging back and forth with a dizzying slowness.

"Lecter should know better than to let his pet loose. What’s it like, fucking a serial killer by the way?"

Will tries to sit up, but the man pushes him back down. "Sh. We’re gonna go for a ride, you and I."

_"I don’t think I want this. This life. I can’t be who you want me to be. I am weary of being on the run."_

_"Then stop running Will. Stay, here with me."_

~*~

Will awakens, his body covered in a film of sweat. He looks around, panicked, before realizing he is in his bedroom. He moves into a sitting position and runs his fingers through his hair. It is damp with perspiration and he sighs, rubbing fretfully at his face. He pauses when the bandages on his hands meet his skin and he stares at them with burning resentment. He tries to go back to sleep, but cannot and ends up lingering in the hallway. He sinks against the wall, trying to clear his head.

_"Where will you go?"_

_"I don’t know. Somewhere far from here."_

_"I’ll bring you back if I must."_

_"I’d like to see you try."_

~*~

_He struggles against the bonds, his wrists chaffing. His eyes looks around the room, seeking an opening for escape._

_"Looks like the drugs have worn off and the pet can move again. Do you feel like talking now?"_

_Will spits in his face. He receives a hard backhand in return, but doesn’t even wince at the pain. "Everyone breaks eventually. I’ll kill you, but not yet."_

_"He’ll come for me," Will growls. "And then you’ll have wished I had killed you first."_

_The man yanks him hard up by the hair so that he is inches from his face. "Then where is he? I am waiting."_

_Will doesn’t answer. He knows what is coming next, so he closes his eyes, thinks of the water, of fishing with Abigail, of his dogs, until the pain is filling every fiber of his being, ripping him open, scattering the dogs, filling the river with blood._

"Will. Are you alright?"

His eyes shoot open. He is still in the hallway, just sitting there with his back pressed against the wall. He blinks rapidly, not responding.

Hannibal kneels before him, inspecting his face. "Will look at me."

He does. His pupils are blown and bursting with red blood vessels, like the chaotic swirls in Murano glass.

"Perhaps you should come to my room so I can watch over you. It appears as though you are losing time again. I can’t have you hurting yourself."

"Are you drugging me?" Will mutters wearily.

"No Will. Though if you would like a sedative, I am happy enough to give you one."

Will shakes his curly head and stands up slowly. "You should go back to sleep Hannibal. I’ll be fine on my own."

Hannibal takes his hand and squeezes it tightly. "Now Will, you and I know that is not quite true. I insist."

"Hannibal, why are you being so nice to me after all the things I said before I left?" Will demands, unable to comprehend the kindness, afraid to believe it is real because nothing feels real anymore.

"Because despite everything, I love you Will and I cannot bear the idea of anyone having hurt you. No matter what words pass between us, we will always find ourselves back in the same sphere. Your pain is my pain. Now come to bed."

The confession stirs Will’s blood, makes his brain feel wooly. Any sane person would run if Hannibal goddamn Lecter confessed his love for him or her. Will however, has never been certain if he is sane, and does not really give a damn. He shuffles forward, allowing Hannibal to lead him to his room. Hannibal pulls aside the covers for Will and waits until the younger man is settled before climbing in himself. Will lies there stiffly and Hannibal passes a hand over his forehead, the gesture soothing his companion.

"Relax Will."

_Will remembers drawing clocks in his brain. He sees upside clocks, clocks on the ceiling, clocks on the walls. Hannibal sketching, becoming a clock. Everything melts, becoming Dali’s clocks._

~*~

_"How long have we been here?"_

_"I might tell you. I might not."_

_"Why are you doing this?"_

_"You really have the audacity to ask questions when you yourself have hurt countless others?"_

_"He would never do this. This would be unspeakably ugly to him."_

_A slap against the back of his thighs. The sound of pants unzipping. Penetration without warning, the skin is raw and ripped, bursting with pain. He cannot keep the cries at bay._

_"Good."_

~*~

When he awakens, Hannibal is spooning him from behind, holding him tightly with his arms and legs. The cannibal is not asleep however, and loosens his grip. "You were having a night terror it seems.  Sorry, but I thought it best to restrain you."

Will does not turn around and stares at the wall. "I didn’t mean all what I said that night. I would have come back you know."

Hannibal runs a hand through Will’s hair, stroking it gingerly and kisses the back of his neck. "I know."

They stay in bed for some time and for once, Will stays in the moment, not seeing images, feeling nothing but the warmth of Hannibal holding him and the steadying lulling of his heartbeat against him.

~*~

"I’m not gay," Will says after Hannibal insists they shower together so he can make sure Will does not "hurt himself."

"What does that have to do with anything? Don’t be petty Will," Hannibal retorts. "If I make you uncomfortable you have every right to decline." 

Will realizes he has not said no really to any of Hannibal’s affections. He wonders why the man’s touch does not sicken him. He wonders if he has been tainted. If his mind is confusing him. He stands there, having a mini existential crisis on the manners of sexuality and masculinity, before Hannibal eases him by putting a hand on his arm.

"You shower first. I’ll leave a robe out for you."

Hannibal exits the bathroom, leaving Will standing there perplexed. He feels miffed and annoyed with himself for some reason and does not even believe the own words that come from his mouth. "No wait, Hannibal. It’s ok. We can…just don’t get weird."

Hannibal reenters the bathroom and stares at Will, who looks like a reprimanded puppy. He walks up to him and places a kiss on his brow. "My dear boy, you have my word." 

Will takes a ridiculously long time to undress and to get into the shower with Hannibal. Lifting his shirt over his head still hurts and he hisses as the cold air meets his skin. This isn’t the weirdest thing he has ever done with Hannibal Lecter, that is for certain, nor the first shower they have shared since the fall. This time it is different however, because before everything was clinical. Now Will feels exposed and hyperaware.

When he steps into the shower, Hannibal is shampooing his hair. Will watches, fascinated for a few moments as the water cascades down the man’s lithe form. "Will, you better shut the door, lest you flood the floor."

Will complies and stands awkwardly in the corner of the shower shivering before he feels hands start to rub his back, lathering soap all over his skin. He is not sure how Hannibal’s definition of weird differs from his, but he imagines that this may qualify in his own mind. He is strangely relaxed though, allowing Hannibal to wash him. Each motion from the man’s hands is like an anointing, a meaningful motion meant to wash away any blemish that taints him. Hannibal is careful with Will’s wounds, moving with a tender slowness to minimize the younger man’s pain. Will turns towards Hannibal then, stares at him for a long moment as the water rushes down on them, before suddenly sliding the shower door open and stepping out without a word.


	3. Trigger Points

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will struggles between accepting the present and what he and Hannibal mean to each other, whilst unable to forget the shadows of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like Will is a little shit in this fic, but I want to justify it in him trying to come to terms with the trauma he has gone through as well as having identified as straight and now realizing he is attracted to a man, and not being able to accept that realization completely. He'll eventually come through though for Hanni :> It'll just take time.

_"Are you angry that we didn’t die Will?"_   
_"I’m angry that we haven’t truly lived."_

~*~

"How did you escape?" Hannibal asks one evening.  
Will knows that he is trying to break the ice of another week without shared kills, of painful silence, to satisfy his simple curiosity. The man prods like this, with a word or two here and there. Hannibal has just brought up a finely-aged wine from the cellar and they sit in the living room before the fire.  
"You know how. I imagine you just want me to say how it felt," Will replies evenly.  
Hannibal pours himself a glass, staring at the blood red wine. He swirls it, smells it, before giving it a taste. "And how did it feel?"  
"To kill him?" Will muses, taking a long time to respond. "Righteous, for a moment. Rather it all felt very dirty by the end."  
"Because of what he did to you? Did you feel sullied?"  
Hannibal’s prodding is getting fiercer, crueler. Will’s expression becomes hooded, his eyes glazing over. His posture stiffens in his chair and Hannibal pours him a glass of the wine.  
"We don’t need to talk about this. I’m no longer your patient."  
Hannibal kneels by Will’s side, setting aside his own glass. "No, you are so much more. I ask because I want you to stop living in that memory of pain. Change it as you changed the Dragon. Dispel it into a thousand pieces, scatter it across the floor in ruby red."  
Will closes his eyes and breathes deeply. "I wanted him to feel the consequences of his obsession with power. Of domination. His face needed to reflect the picture within himself. A mashed, beaten, tumor of a thing. Crushed in power play. Not seeing the humanity in others. He didn’t need eyes. He didn’t need ears, because he didn’t hear me. Didn’t listen. Only felt. Felt. And felt some more. »  
One of Will’s healing hands twists and clenches in a fist and Hannibal places a palm overtop it to ease him. Their eyes meet and Will reaches for the poured glass of wine and swallows it all in a single swig.

~*~

When they kill together again, it does not have the same effect as the Dragon had on Will. None of the kills had, but they did bring a sense of release and communion. Will imagines the next victim is the man that had robbed him of his composure, his masculinity—robbed him of his choice. He kills with his fists whenever he is able, strangles, punches, scratches, strikes.  
"Don’t spoil the tableau Will. Now we’ll have to hood his face," Hannibal says.  
"He doesn’t need one anyway," Will breathes.  
~*~

"Why do we have to go to this damn event of yours? And do we have to wear pinstripes?" Will demands weeks later, when they are dressing for another one of Hannibal’s local fancy dine-and-dance haunts.  
"I say it’s much better than your normal flannel wear Will. You clean up nicely," Hannibal comments offhandedly. "Come now, or we’ll be late."  
"What a shame that would be," his partner replies, fretting with his absurdly green bowtie.  
They’ve ran away to several places since their fugitive life began, but even in Buenos Aires, Hannibal manages to find every high-brow place and concert despite their limited language skills. Hannibal is a man of conversation, of literature and arts, medicine and history. He does the talking while Will stands around, picking at food that he cannot name, eyeing women and generally feeling out-of-place. There comes a moment where he must dance however, and he can forget the awkwardness. Hannibal plans to make his first dance with Will, instead the latter has found a lovely dark-haired woman in a cocktail dress and is dancing with her instead.  
He allows it for a few moments until he steals Will from the woman, muttering a swift apology, and sweeps him into a low dip. Will looks at him in irritation, pushing him away in embarrassment. "Why do you have to be like this?"  
A few people cast looks of surprise at them and Hannibal is offended, giving his partner a death stare. "Will, don’t cause a scene. This event is important for our security. One false move and we are out of favor and lose the money."  
Will does not feel like himself. He does not want to dance with a man. "Don’t act like you can just do that. In front of everyone. I’m going to get a drink."  
He makes his way through the crowd of people to the refreshments and Hannibal stands there, abandoned on the dance floor.

 

"I have been very lenient with you Will, but if you test me, I will not hesitate to punish you, » Hannibal replies, when they return home late into the night after the event.  
Will is tired, does not feel like arguing. He tosses his suit jacket onto the couch and kicks off his shoes. He ignores Hannibal, wandering towards his bedroom. He’s had a bit too much to drink again, but he does not care, even as Hannibal grabs him harshly by the arm and spins him around.  
"Could you just for one second wake up and understand what it is I have done for you? The life I am trying to build for us? Not just for me, but for you Will!"  
Will feels somewhat guilty but does not voice it. Mostly, he is resentful towards everyone and everything and he cannot completely shake the feeling off. He does not know how to voice all of these things, so he just brushes Hannibal away. The older man reacts vehemently however, striking him across the face.  
The sensation triggers a memory and Will cradles his face, dropping to his knees. He’s not there anymore. He could explode any minute and fall forward at the next and just sleep there, drowning everything out. Hannibal notices how oddly Will reacts and goes to help him stand.  
Will pushes him away though, punching at him like a feral animal. Hannibal wrestles with him and they fall to the ground in a tumble, in a muss of struggling limbs and gasps. Hannibal’s clothes are all in disarray and he has Will in a chokehold. The younger man bites and kicks, but the cannibal is stronger than him, choking him just enough until he starts to black out.  
"Will."  
The voice steadies him, the pressure on his throat eases. Will becomes limp in Hannibal’s grasp and his breathing comes out in hoarse pants. He rests his curly head against Hannibal’s chest and they remain like this for some time.

~*~

Things begin to change little by little. Will sleeps through the night. He manages to convince Hannibal to go fishing with him. They talk of reversing time. Hannibal teaches Will in the kitchen. They forget, they move on. Some barriers have yet to be crossed, however, and some conversations go unsaid.  
It starts when Hannibal is playing a melody on the piano one evening. Will sits beside him on the edge of the stool and observes. Hannibal is determined to finish his song, but feels the lack of space between them, feels Will close and warm. He senses the man’s eyes on him, eyeing his long fingers and swift movements. The vibrations of the song swim through them and Hannibal can smell Will’s adrenaline, witnesses how he is on edge.  
Hannibal’s playing ceases. He shifts his posture, just a little so that his knees brush Will’s legs. Will makes a sound low in his throat and he says stupidly, "How do your hands move like that?"  
Hannibal’s mouth is on his in an instant, kissing him, breathing into him, nibbling at his lower lip. Will practically falls off the stool and moans in mixed longing and surprise, opening his mouth for him, allowing him entry. The kiss turns from chaste to savage and Hannibal has his arms wrapped around Will, nails digging into his back, hands cupping his ass.  
They tumble to the floor with Hannibal overtop Will, as the former nips at his ear, leaving a trail of kisses alongside his jaw and neck. Will is overwhelmed, grabbing wherever he can. His mind is racing and it is all too much and not enough in an instant. His heart races, his mind panics and he groans, "Hannibal" desperately, not knowing what to do, just what he needs and not understanding why it feels so goddamned right and terrible at the same time.  
"Will, my dear boy," Hannibal growls, nipping at Will’s neck and grinding against him.  
It’s when Hannibal’s hands wander that Will’s body shuts down. They go to cup Will through his pants and he lets out a startled cry, rolling to his side and pushing Hannibal off of him. He holds his head in his hands, panicking inwardly. Hannibal reaches toward him, but Will races to his bedroom, breathing, "I can’t! I’m so sorry! I just can’t," and slams the door.


	4. The Possible in the Impossible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will and Hannibal begin to reconcile. Even if it's just a little bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed a negative reaction to Hannibal hitting Will in the previous chapter. I will not alter the chapter, but I changed the tags to reflect it. Here we begin the healing and romance :) My need for fluff begins. Warning some sexual content.

Will’s behavior is avoidant. He expects Hannibal to barge in on him at any hour to reprimand him, but he doesn’t. He is annoyed that he is disappointed that Hannibal does not disturb him. Their kisses replay over and over in his head, keeping him awake at night. Hannibal’s hands, holding him, grasping, exploring. His lips, sucking the very breath from him, yet inflaming his body with need. The kiss of death and life intertwined.  
_He’s a man_ , Will thinks. _I cannot be attracted to a man_.  
_Is he though? Sometimes I wonder if Hannibal qualifies as his own species._  
He recalls then how he'd frozen up, how someone else had grabbed him in a similar way, except brutally. He recalls his tongue being bitten so that it drew blood, his gasping when he could not breathe from the invasion. His head being slammed repeatedly into the ground. He isn’t thinking of Hannibal anymore.  
When he relives the kisses between he and the cannibal however, he relives the heat in his body that he felt that night. Sometimes, Will becomes aroused, absentmindedly touching himself, while at others he is ashamed, rolling around fretfully in his bed.  
_What are you to me?_ , he asks himself.  
_I should hate you._  
_I hate this ennui._  
_I don’t need this._  
_I need you._  
Will’s brain pingpongs back and forth, between acceptance and denial. He recalls then how his assailant had asked him what it is like to screw a serial killer. If he left marks. If he was the top or bottom. If Will cried out Hannibal’s name.  
Will had never said, "Hannibal and I don’t sleep with each other."  
He wonders why. Perhaps it was the pain, the embarrassment, perhaps it was tight-lipped rebellion.  
_"He isn’t coming. Hannibal doesn’t love. He’s merely using you, so why are you protecting him?"_  
_Fingers bruising his flesh, grasping his backside._  
_"Your ass is so tight. Almost like a virgin. Does he fuck you like this too? Do you cry out for more?"_  
Will is sweating and unconsciously reaches to touch his rear, his cleft. He has healed by now, but he still feels the echoes of the penetration. Of the robbing. Of the humiliation. He wonders what Hannibal is like in bed, if he’s brutal or if he’s kind. He wonders if he would make him ask for more or shove his face into the mattress and fuck him senseless.  
_I would want to see your face_ , Will admits to himself.  
_I want to know what you think. I want to see what you feel. What you can give._  
He pauses, feeling cold inside then.  
_But I am afraid that you would destroy me or I you, as we almost have countless times before._

~*~

Hannibal and Will live together but barely catch glimpses of the other. Hannibal still cooks for the latter and still sets the table every night, but Will does not join him for over a week.  
When he does, he murmurs a soft, "Hi," and sits down at the table. Hannibal looks at him guardedly, but nods his head in acknowledgment. They eat in silence and then Will stands up abruptly to exit.  
"Thanks for the meal."  
"Will, don’t leave. Please. Let’s talk."  
Will glances at him, eyeing him from head to foot. "You want to talk about this. This travesty we’ve created for ourselves. You want to talk as if it is going to make everything ok. We’ll it’s not ok Hannibal. This isn’t ok. I’m not ok. I don’t know what to fucking think or feel anymore."  
Hannibal looks as if he has shrunk, but keeps his distance. "Will, despite what you may think, I have tried to be there for you. I am sorry if I have failed. I cannot read your mind. I want to know what you are thinking. I want to share your pain and cast it away. I want you to be yourself again. Victorious. Unafraid. And I want to help you get there."  
"How?" Will mutters, doubt clouding his features.  
"We can stay like this Will, at a standstill for eternity. Hades and Persephone in winter. Or we can face the future together, day by day. I can be your ear. I can be your eyes. Whatever you wish of me Will. I just know one thing, that I’d rather be separated from you and stuck in a cell again, knowing you were living as you truly are, unbridled, free and happy, rather than see you here in agony every waking hour and being unable to liberate you from your pain. I love you Will, and I will do whatever it takes to help you bear this storm."  
Will looks like he is about to melt and he averts his gaze. He’s been angry at Hannibal, for touching him without asking, for making him face the feelings he’s been afraid to explore. Yet here right now, he can only feel so angry. He’s weary of resentment. It has not dispelled completely, but the ice begins to thaw, revealing the raw wound underneath. Suddenly, there are tears in his eyes he cannot control and he feels relieved and ashamed of himself all at once. He presses a hand to his face, wiping at his eyes with the back of his sleeve and breathes, "Well damn."  
Hannibal is bristling with the desire to seize Will in his arms and soothe him, but refrains.  
"Look at me, how ridiculous I am. You are. How ridiculous I’ve been. I just…have been so undone. Felt so mad for the things I cannot control. Sometimes, I want to strangle you. But damn it Hannibal, you make me question everything I am. Was. The ground beneath me trembles when I face you, humming, drawing me to you wherever I turn. You make pain beautiful, bearable," Will confesses. He pauses, his chest swelling up with conflicting emotions, and he’s weeping now out of relief. "Damn it, the truth is, I don’t know what I’d do without you."  
Hannibal can only prevent himself from comforting Will for so long. He’s next to Will in an instant, shushing him, and pulls him into a gentle embrace. Will laughs weakly against his chest, muttering a muffled apology as Hannibal strokes his hair.  
"I want whiskey," Will says childishly, after a few minutes of silence.  
Hannibal’s hand pauses on Will’s head. "Is this really the time to be drinking?"  
"You said you’d do anything. C’mon. Have some shots with me."  
Hannibal curbs his inner detestation for cheap alcohol that leads to swift inebriation just this once. For his Will, he tells himself. "Very well. I have some of your brew in the cabinet. I’ll be right back."  
He lets go of Will, but does not exit the room without leaving the ghost of a kiss on his forehead.

~*~  
They begin to dine each night together again and read stories by the fire. Sometimes they drink and have discussions. At other times, Hannibal plays on the harpsichord or teaches Will how to play the theremin. This night, Will is before the fire, staring at the flames, and says, "I want a dog."  
Hannibal pauses from the book he is perusing. "No."  
"I wasn’t asking," Will replies challengingly and turns to look at him.  
Hannibal shuts his book in annoyance and sets it down. "I’ll never understand your proclivity for the canine species. They shed and drag mud everywhere. They chew on things."  
"Hannibal. I’d feed it and care for it. A little hair never hurt anyone."  
Hannibal’s lips purse into a tight line as Will stares at him with large, blue eyes. He sighs in frustration. "Fine. But just one. If it becomes a handful, don’t think I’ll hesitate to rid of it."  
Will grins, for the first time in a long while. He strides over to Hannibal and kisses his cheek. "Thanks."  
Hannibal blinks and pats the chair he is in. "Sit with me?"  
Will hesitates, but complies. It is a tight squeeze for the two of them, so Hannibal hoists Will’s legs over his lap and wraps an arm around him. "Is this ok?"  
Will wriggles for a moment, but eventually settles. "Sure."

~*~

It starts when Will asks Hannibal if he needs help with the dishes. Will’s hands are soapy and wet as he stands by the sink with his sleeves rolled up, scrubbing plates. Hannibal has finished clearing the table and is helping dry the dishes and put them away. He stares at Will with searching eyes and gradually grows closer to him. Suddenly, he is behind Will, and is placing gentle kisses on his neck.  
Will stills and leans in closer to Hannibal, starving for touch. "Hannibal, I’m…what is it you want?"  
His voice is shaky, but he can feel himself growing hard as Hannibal squeezes his ass playfully and nibbles his ear. The actions elicit a moan from Will’s lips. "What do you want Will? Tell me."  
Will drops the sponge he was using to scrub dishes. He whirls around, still covered in soap, and pulls Hannibal by the front of his shirt into a clumsy kiss. Hannibal makes a delighted sound, supporting Will’s with one arm and kisses him back hungrily. Will can feel the man’s erection against his thigh and his mind races, and he breaks the kiss.  
"Tell me this is ok," he breathes. "Are we crazy? Is this ok?"  
"Everything is ok Will. I am here with you, in this moment. What can I do for you? My beautiful boy," Hannibal utters heavily, kissing him again.  
Will’s tension eases and he splays himself against Hannibal, pressing him against the kitchen island. "Touch me." His hands explore with a newfound sense of curiosity, groping Hannibal’s strong arms, chest, and thighs. He tugs at the man’s shirt, bunching the fabric up swiftly to feel his skin. Hannibal is kissing and suckling his neck then, making small noises of approval as Will thrusts needfully against him. His pants are so tight it hurts and he ruts frantically, moaning as Hannibal bites his neck, encouraging him to continue.  
Hannibal grips Will’s ass, thrusting up against him in unison, and groans. The angle is awkward and slightly painful, but neither one of them care. Will kisses Hannibal one final time, moaning desperately as he comes and Hannibal follows moments after. They lie in the awkward position for a few moments before Will stands with a grimace and says, "Shower."  
Hannibal stands without a word, his usually-slicked-back hair all mussed and in disarray. His shirt is covered in soap suds and he removes it, tossing it over his head without a care as he heads to the bathroom.

 

In the shower, Will dares to look at Hannibal. He draws closer to him so that they are both underneath the shower head and embraces him suddenly, squeezing him tightly. Hannibal is startled and water is getting in his ears and nose, but he savors in the unexpected displays of affection that Will bestows on him.  
"I want it to be ok. I want to try. Us, I mean," Will admits. "I don’t know what I’m doing. I still think it’s all insane, but to hell with it."  
Hannibal responds by kissing him and caressing his face. "My dear Will. I’d never imagined a day where you would bestow your graces on me. For this, I am forever grateful. I am happy. I’ll endeavor to ensure your utmost happiness. I promise you."


	5. Tumble and Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Will gets a dog, Hannibal does not like said dog, and they get into an argument over it. Aka makeup sexy times.

Out of all the things Will could think of Hannibal requesting of him, posing on a settee in the nude with a blanket partially draped over him was not one of them. The cannibal positions him carefully before sitting down with his sketchbook and begins to draw. It is only half an hour later before Will’s body begins to ache from the position and he feels exposed, with Hannibal’s eyes traveling up and down his figure. His pencil moves with an agonizing slowness, feathering softly across the page.  
"Why are we doing this again?" Will demands.  
"Don’t fidget Will. We will take a break momentarily," Hannibal comments, not answering his question.  
Will must remain in his position for at least another hour before Hannibal allows him to relax. The former sits up, stretching his arms and neck. «You never answered my question. »  
"You have a lovely form Will. I simply wish to worship it on the page," Hannibal replies evenly. He approaches him then and traces his fingers delicately across the man’s jawline.  
Will’s breath hitches in his throat and he turns his head, as if inviting him for further contact. Hannibal nuzzles his face before kissing him lightly on the lips. Will’s breathes deeply, his hand reaching out to grasp his partner’s shirt. He paws at the fabric, causing Hannibal to smile.  
"Patience Will. I want you to become comfortable in your own skin. We will presume our session in a few minutes."  
Will looks disappointed, but complies.  
Hannibal sketches him for another two hours before shutting his book, satisfied. Will is happy to be liberated from his modeling and goes to stand. "Can I see?"  
Hannibal shakes his head. "I have to fine-tune it. But later you may."  
Will then remembers that he sports no clothes. "I’ll just…go get dressed."  
~*~

Will has not forgotten Hannibal’s promise about getting a dog. He has spent weeks looking for strays and looking in shops. He happens upon a collie-shepherd mix one evening after returning from a fishing adventure and he freezes, having found his gold. The dog is covered in mud and it needs a good trimming, its fur sticking up in every direction and matted from neglect.  
Will drops his fishing gear, removes his jacket and wraps it around the dog. "I will call you Ketchup."

 

Later, after Hannibal has returned from the market, he smells wet dog immediately. He scowls, dropping his bag of vegetables on the kitchen counter. "Will! What is the meaning of this?"  
Will does not greet him however, instead a dripping-wet ball of fur with fluffy ears bounds down the stairs, leaving a trail of water in its wake. Hannibal stares at the dog guardedly and it stares back at him. His nose twitches in distaste and he looks up to see Will walking down the stairs with a handful of towels. He pounces on the dog, patting it down with the towels affectionately, saying things like "There you go boy. That’s a good Ketchup."  
"You named it after a condiment?" Hannibal comments dryly.  
Will grins up at Hannibal, hugging the dog to him, smelling of dirt and sodden canine. He has never looked happier however, and turns his attention back to Ketchup. "C’mon boy. Let’s brush out that crazy mane."  
He and the dog pad away to another room and Hannibal immediately seeks out cleaning supplies to eradicate the kitchen of the awful smell of dog.

~*~  
One month later, and Hannibal has almost killed their newfound furry companion. Ketchup likes chewing, on shoes, on table legs, and even rugs. Will apologizes, buys toys, and eases Hannibal with kisses. When the dog chews up one of the harpsichord legs, however, Hannibal is in ire.   
He chases Ketchup around until he is able to catch him. He throws the dog outside, tying it to a stake where it remains when it is in time-out. He thinks of clever ways he could get the dog lost or "accidentally" make a dog pie, but hesitates when he hears the front door open. Will has released Ketchup from his confinement and lets him back into the house.  
"You know I don’t like when you leave him out there," Will complains.  
Hannibal casts a death glare at the dog, barely resisting the urge to kick it, before bounding over to Will in fury. "He ravaged my harpsichord. This is impermissible Will. The dog has to go."  
Will’s brow furrows. "I am sorry. Maybe he just gets bored and needs a companion. You promised me we could have a dog Hannibal. We could have the legs repaired."  
Hannibal shakes his head, tempted to shake Will senseless. "No. No. No. Ketchup must go! That dog is causing too many problems Will."  
He walks away, going after the dog. Will chases after him, calling his name in distress. He notices Hannibal has frozen and then sees why. Ketchup has found a throw pillow to shred open and is currently rolling around in the stuffing. Hannibal’s fists clench before he dives at the dog. Ketchup rolls away with a whine and Will jumps towards Hannibal, bear-hugging him and trying to prevent him from killing their pet.  
The two men wrestle, falling to the ground, with Hannibal trying to crawl towards the dog, and Will gripping onto his partner for dear life.  
"Stop being silly Hannibal. We can work this out!"  
"No Will!"  
They continue to roll around inanely, wrestling, until Will has an idea. He kisses Hannibal, pinning him with his legs and pushing his weight into him. Hannibal grunts in frustration, trying to push him off, and bites at his neck. Will rolls his hips into him roughly.  
"I’m keeping Ketchup," he growls.  
Hannibal bites his neck harder. "Convince me not to kill that damn dog, you wicked boy."  
He pushes his hips upwards challengingly, causing Will to groan. The latter tugs at Hannibal’s shirt, untucking it from his pants, and reaches underneath to feel his skin. Hannibal responds by gripping Will’s ass and venturing underneath his trousers. His nails dig deeply into the flesh of Will’s thighs and backside, causing the younger man to whimper with need.  
"You’re cruel sometimes," Will breathes, kissing his neck.  
"I can be so much crueler," Hannibal retorts, the blood rushing away from his brain.  
They kiss savagely, pawing at one another and rutting, before Hannibal catches Will off-guard and shrugs the man’s pants down his hips. He palm’s Will’s painfully-hard cock through his boxers, eliciting a moan.  
"Hannibal. Fuck."  
Hannibal flips their positions, so that he is hovering overtop Will. The latter kicks his pants off and his boxers soon follow. Hannibal’s mouth assaults Will’s stomach, hips, and thighs. He laps at his skin, nips, and kisses until Will is writhing beneath him. He finally pays attention to Will’s aching member, which drips with pre-cum as he takes in his hand and strokes slowly. Will is embarrassed by the sounds that escapes his mouth and he whispers, "Please."  
Hannibal obliges him, licking the tip before taking him in his mouth. Will’s hips roll forward, but Hannibal’s hands plant him firmly to the ground as he sucks him, kissing and licking and stroking along the way. The sight of Hannibal alone with swollen lips, his hair askew, and face flushed nearly drives Will over the edge. He groans desperately, reaching towards Hannibal and brushing his legs. His fingers dig into the man’s right hip, nearly bruising him.  
"Hannibal, please. I need you."  
Hannibal looks up at Will, releasing him. The sight of him begging arouses him even further. He obliges Will, discarding his clothes. The rest of Will’s soon follow. He lies overtop Will and hoists one of the man’s legs up to curl around his hip. He takes Will’s member and his in his hand and strokes them together in his hand slowly. The contact causes Will to shudder and lean into him, arching his back in need.  
"Fuck. Hannibal."  
Hannibal’s eyelids flutter as he breathes Will’s name, quickening the pace. They rock together, skin glistening with sweat. It is not long though, before Will is coming. Hannibal finishes moments after and they lie there for a while, catching their breath. Hannibal rolls away from Will, sticky with sweat and cum, and runs a hand through his hair.  
"Look what you’ve made me become. Decadent."  
Will rolls back towards him however, and kisses his neck. "Does this mean I win?"  
Hannibal wraps an arm around him lazily, kissing him back. "For now. But don’t think the war is won yet, my dear Will."   
Will grins against him. "Sure."


	6. At Last We Are Conjoined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal and Will settle into their new lives. Will makes a confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your guys' support. Warning, sexual content ahead. I thought of adding a couple more chapter to this fic before I wrapped it up, but it seemed to end where I wanted it to, with peace and recognition. That is all I ask for our loveable murdering duo.

One dog bounds down the stair and another follows, running towards Will as he says “Walk time.” Hannibal walks slowly down the stairs after them, looking relatively unexcited in a button-up sweater and jeans. He stares at Will as the man attaches the leashes to Ketchup and his newfound buddy Bella, a lab, with another uncreative name. Said Bella was found sleeping in the back of Will’s pickup one morning and her fate was sealed from there. The only good news about Bella’s entry into the Lecter-Graham household is the fact that Ketchup busies himself more with trying to hump his new friend instead of chewing up everything in the house.  
“Come on Hannibal, hurry up,” Will says excitedly as he exits the house.  
The crisp cool morning hits Hannibal as he follows after him. Will walks ahead of him, getting tangled in the leashes as the two dogs walk crookedly, bumping into him and trying to go in opposite directions. Hannibal puts his hands in his pockets, walking behind them on purpose, and secretly enjoying the sight of Will tripping over the dogs and laughing his nervous little laugh.  
“Come help me Hannibal,” he insists. “You’re so feisty, aren’t you?” He directs his last words to the dogs, but Hannibal stills, his mind going in a different direction.

~*~

Hannibal sits across from Will at their long table, which could seat many more guests, if they entertained more often. Hannibal is beginning to get acquainted with his colleagues at his new lecturing position at the university. He also takes clients on a private basis but very few, being selective about whom he gives his therapy to. One or two of them had been referred, and another magically choked on his own vomit in a psychotic episode, and made for a few good suppers.  
Will busies himself by doing part-time lectures for a local university and teaching lower level classes, so he has much free time, opting to go on fishing adventures and repairing a boat instead. Said boat, has become his second baby next to Ketchup and Bella, and he and Hannibal thus share less moments of intimacy as they begin to settle into their new life under their fake names.  
Hannibal eyes Will as he eats his meal in silence. “You know Will, I was wondering if you would like to go out this evening.”  
Will’s hands still. “Where? Is there another opera going on or something? I do love you, but please don’t subjugate me to that tonight.”  
Hannibal stares, in surprise, feeling fluttery. “What did you say?”  
Will misinterprets the cannibal’s reaction and his eyebrows furrow. “Sorry if that was rude. I just am a bit tired. Maybe a movie?”  
Hannibal shakes his head, still staring and clenching the table. “No, the other thing you said.”  
Will is bemused. He then opens his mouth in an “oh” as recognition dawns, as he realizes that he has never really said it before. He smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his head, while Hannibal looks as if he is about to implode internally.  
“Come on Hannibal. You alright?”  
The cannibal stands suddenly and bounds towards him, pulling him to his feet. Will grunts in surprise, but is silenced when Hannibal kisses him deeply. Will hugs him awkwardly, replying. Hannibal shudders against him and buries his face into his neck.  
“Say it again,” he breathes. “Tell me that I am not dreaming.”  
“I love you?” Will says, in a form of a question.  
Hannibal groans and kisses his neck. “Yes, that. Do you mean it Will?”  
Will is stunned at seeing the normally-composed Hannibal becoming putty in his arms and nuzzling him like an overly-affectionate puppy. He cannot help but smile at the endearing display and raises Hannibal’s face to his so that they are looking at one another eye-to-eye.  
“Yes. Of course I love you.”  
Hannibal blinks slowly. A sound half like a sob and half like a delighted exclamation escape him. His eyes begin to water and he presses a hand to his mouth, abashed. “I am sorry. I am just happy.”  
Will squishes him, tightening their embrace. “Gosh, if that’s what I knew it’d take to make you like this, I’d have said it a thousand times more.”  
They stand there, hugging for a long moment, before Hannibal nuzzles Will insistently, whispering in his ear, and nibbling it playfully. “I should like to take you to bed. If you would allow me the pleasure.”  
Will hesitates, remembering something unpleasant. Hannibal’s hands are soft however, his lips teasing, causing his body to get excited. He means to form words, but they come out in more of a desperate growl as Hannibal grips his ass. His eyes widen and he looks at his lover, as if seeking guidance.  
“Do you trust me?” Hannibal inquires softly.  
Will nods, still looking like a frightened rabbit with a gun poised to its head. “Yes. Yes, you can… I mean…do me.” He flushes at how idiotic he sounds and averts his gaze. “Shit, I mean. Yes I trust you. Show me.”  
Hannibal strokes his face to ease him for a moment, kissing him gently. He clasps Will’s hand in his own and guides him to his room. He kisses Will everywhere to make him relax, from his temple, to his face, neck, and even his hands. Will feels everywhere, like he is intoxicated, touching and pawing at Hannibal, as if this is the first time they have ever come to know each other intimately. His hands reach for Hannibal’s tie, pulling at it, his fingers playing with it and with the buttons of his shirt.  
Hannibal removes Will’s hands and undoes everything himself, tossing aside his tie and vest and then sliding off his shirt. Will groans in approval, running his hands all over the mans’s bare chest, kissing the flesh there, and gripping his hips. Hannibal arches forward, enjoying the attention, before removing his lover and pushing him down onto the mattress.  
He kisses Will needfully, unbuttoning the man’s plaid shirt in the process, and pushing up the t-shirt underneath to reveal his scar. Hannibal strokes it fondly before attacking it and the rest of Will’s torso with nips and kisses. Will writhes beneath him, shrugging off his shirts and hooks his legs around Hannibal’s hips. He thrusts upward, causing Hannibal to make a “tsking” noise.  
“Patience my dear Will.”  
He unzips his lover’s jeans and shrugs them down his hips and palms him through his already-wet boxers. Will gasps, causing Hannibal to smile. The latter then kisses his thighs, licking and sucking, and nuzzles him through his boxers before releasing him.  
“Oh Will,” he breathes, grasping him, and giving his member a long, languid stroke.  
“Hannibal!” Will whines fretfully.  
Hannibal continues to tease him, licking the head, cupping his balls, stroking and palming him before Will grunts loudly in annoyance, causing him to finally take him in his mouth. Will is ashamed at the noises that come out of him in response, as Hannibal sucks him greedily and lets his lover fuck him into his mouth. It has to hurt, Will thinks for a moment, before falling back into his shameless thrusting and moaning.  
“If you don’t stop, I will come,” he groans.  
Hannibal ceases after a moment before before kissing Will savagely and thrusting against him. Will tastes himself and hooks one of his legs around Hannibal’s hips, rubbing his foot suggestively against his pant leg. “Take this off.”  
Hannibal complies, divesting himself of the rest of his clothing whilst attacking Will’s lips and then his neck, surely leaving marks. “Mine,” he repeats over and over, “Mine.”  
When they are finally, skin-to-skin, Will reaches for Hannibal’s member, stroking it curiously, causing the cannibal’s breath to hitch in his throat. He allows the gesture for a couple of minutes and sighs in pleasure, before removing his hands.  
“I am not young Will and will not last if you tease me. Allow me to do the rest. Now relax, as I am going to prepare you. It may hurt at first, but just breathe,” he eases.  
Will’s expression changes into one of mixed dread and curiosity. “I know it hurts.” He pauses and Hannibal pauses as well.  
His lover grasps his hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “It’ll be ok.”  
Will nods, relaxing, and Hannibal then reaches for a jar of lube he has resting at his bedside. He settles in between Will’s legs, easing them apart. He strokes his calves gently, before dipping a couple of fingers into the jar. “It may be cold at first. Bear with me.”  
He presses his fingers against Will’s entrance and the man winces at the odd sensation. He then feels Hannibal pressing into him, sliding his fingers in slowly. It is a tight fit and he cringes, but Hannibal reassures him with hushing noises and kisses. He begins to fuck Will slowly with his hand, stretching him, and getting a feel for him. It hurts for a few minutes, until his body begins to adjust. Hannibal is patient, before picking up his rhythm.  
It is then that he hits his prostrate and Will makes a sound of surprise. Hannibal begins to hit the spot over and over again until Will’s breathing had quickened, his face is flushed, and his body arches forward as he presses himself down into Hannibal’s hand. He moans needfully, muttering Hannibal’s name. The sight of Will so wanton, his legs spread, and his head thrown back against the mattress, is arousing and causes his lover to groan himself.  
He then eases his hands out of Will and the man looks disappointed at the emptiness that follows. Hannibal wipes his hand off, kisses his lover’s forehead, and hooks his legs around his hips. He presses himself against Will’s entrance, bucking his hips forward in warning.  
Will looks at him lovingly, and the sight is nearly enough to make Hannibal come right then and there. He eases into Will, very slowly, and both of them react, with Will gasping, and Hannibal exhaling softly. Once they have both adjusted, Hannibal begins to slowly pump in and out of Will.  
The cannibal breathes words feverishly in a language Will does not understand as he fucks him. Will’s hands clench the sheets as his lover picks up his pace and fills him completely, brushing his prostrate. The younger man becomes verbal, begging and praising nonsensically as his hips arch up to meet the rhythm. Hannibal embraces him, burying his face into his neck and fucking him without restraint. He tugs at Will’s cock, and only has to give it a few desperate strokes before the man is shaking and gasping as he comes. Hannibal shudders, thrusting up heatedly into Will’s warm, heat, before his orgasm washes over him and he collapses, breathing in huffs.  
They lie there, still entangled for a few moments, and meet each other’s eyes. Will brushes back Hannibal’s bangs from his eyes and the man kisses him in response. He slides out of him, rolling over onto his back with his arm shielding his face. They do not speak for a while and merely bask in the afterglow, before Hannibal turns to Will, wiping away their messes patiently. They then settle on the bed, resting.  
“I cannot imagine a life without you,” Hannibal states. “In my time during my incarceration, I felt our separation every moment, and thought endlessly of our reunion. You, my phantom other half, haunting me from day to day, walking with me as a palpable presence, stirring my heart and fueling my dreams.” He strokes the scarred side of Will’s face, brushing his thumb against the tender skin. The man leans into his touch.  
“We are conjoined,” Will says, as he had years ago. “And nothing will ever separate us.”


End file.
